


send a signal that he's hanging all his hopes on the stars

by montecarlos



Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Canon Compliant, Getting Back Together, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27780430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: “I don’t understand-” Fabio whispers. “Are you...ending this?”“Isn’t it for the best?” Maverick says, trying not to glance at his boyfriend.(or a story of heartbreak and repairing those cracks in the heart)
Relationships: Fabio Quartararo/Maverick Viñales
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	send a signal that he's hanging all his hopes on the stars

**Author's Note:**

> This fic wasn't my intention at all - I wanted to write something fluffy ready for Christmas but well, it's come out this way and I really wanted to look into the season that just happened and the relationship between Maverick and Fabio and how it's changed. This fic follows the 2020 season and is fairly canon complaint. Title comes from To the Moon & Back by Savage Garden. 
> 
> Thank you to D + L for cheerleading, and to you for reading.

“I think we should take a break,” Maverick says, worrying his lip. It’s been playing on his mind for a few weeks - though they had enjoyed spending lockdown together, the start of the season is soon approaching and the doubt is beginning to creep in. It seems the most logical thing to do - certainly with the increased press attention around Fabio and both of them focusing on finally beating out Marc for the championship.   
  
“Yeah, sounds like a good idea but we’re supposed to go to Jerez next week, babe,” Fabio smiles, the gap in his teeth making Maverick’s heart wrench. But it immediately drops at the sight of Maverick’s grave expression. “What do you mean?”   
  
“I mean, a break from us,” Maverick murmurs out, picking at one of his nails.   
  
“I don’t understand-” Fabio whispers. “Are you...ending this?”   
  
“Isn’t it for the best?” Maverick says, trying not to glance at his boyfriend. “I mean, it’s only going to be harder to hide it, isn’t it easier this way? We can focus on our careers and-”   
  
“But I love you,” Fabio blurts out, his hazel eyes glassy, filling with unshed tears.   
  
“I know,” Maverick closes his eyes, his hands finding Fabio’s. “It’s just temporary, okay? We have to focus on our careers - and eventually, we will find our way back to each other, I promise,”   
  
He pretends that he barely remembers leaning forward and pressing a light kiss against Fabio’s lips - it’s a goodbye that lingers, the saltiness of Fabio’s tears hanging on his mouth for hours afterward. It’s only when he returns to his own darkened apartment, that his own tears begin to fall. He leans against his balcony, his hoodie still caught with the scent of Fabio’s cologne, the tears continuing to fall down his cheeks as he wonders if breaking his heart was worth it.   
  


* * *

  
Maverick tries to bury everything that happened between them but it’s difficult, especially when he sees Fabio the following week at Jerez. It’s the same as it was before, the same show that they use to play up for the cameras at the press conference (though there’s fewer of them due to the pandemic, for which Maverick is thankful, he is able to talk without a thousand flashes going off in his face). Fabio wins his first race and Maverick feels _hollow_. He’s happy for his ex-boyfriend - but he can feel the surge of jealousy, even as he collects Fabio into a warm hug, ignoring the click of the camera shutters around them. Maverick is proud of Fabio, but he can’t help but think he should be him on the top step. Later that night, he thinks about what they would have been doing that night if they had been together - he thinks back to the previous season, when they had curled up in Maverick’s motorhome in the same spot he is parked in now and his lips had mapped out every inch of tanned, tattooed skin as Fabio’s fingers had fisted into inky black hair, Maverick’s name between his legs - there is only silence, and the glint of the second-place trophy on the side. Maverick isn’t sure if it was even worth it.   
  
Maverick is hardly surprised by Tom’s presence the following week by Fabio’s side. He knows that Tom isn’t just there for his administrative abilities, but as support. He’s a constant shadow to Fabio, the younger man’s helmet curled between tattooed fingers. When Maverick pulls into his box next to Fabio on the front row, he can feel Tom’s dark eyes taking him in behind his visor. His expression is blank, hidden by the black mask, but Maverick can sense his hostility. He tries to sweep away the thoughts that flood his head, the hurt twisting deeper into his already sensitive stomach. Tom has always been Fabio’s friend - he was one of the people who supported their blossoming relationship - but it was logical that he would stay by Fabio’s side and not by the man who had left his heart in tatters. He’s not sure if Tom’s presence knocks his concentration or if it is the bike struggling in the warmer temperatures, but Valentino shoots past him at the start and Fabio becomes nothing more than a grey and red blur. With every second that he’s behind Valentino, Maverick feels his chances of winning slip away.   
  
Fabio wins the race and Maverick can feel the same twist of jealousy as he watches Valentino hug Fabio, smiling at him warmly. He passes it off that he’s overwhelmed by the heat and by the fact that he was unable to get past Valentino for the majority of the race but Fabio knows _him_. He knows all of Maverick’s secrets, and every mask that he puts on for the cameras, and Maverick knows that he can sense his emotions. Fabio pretends to take it in his stride, throwing his fist up in the air, Tom grabbing at his best friend, the pair of them conversing in loud French. Maverick’s heart wrenches again - although Fabio speaks French with Tom most of the time, he has never felt like an outsider before today. He accepts the hug from Fabio a few moments later, but it’s stiff and rehearsed. Maverick can see the hurt in Fabio’s eyes at his indifference, and it’s a sight that haunts his dreams that night.   
  


* * *

  
Brno has never been kind to Maverick, and he’s thankful to scrape a handful of points, his bike more or less unrideable for the majority of the race. Fabio too struggles despite a good starting position and has to settle for seventh. But it’s Austria where things truly begin to go wrong. Maverick claims the pole position on a sunny Saturday, feeling the airbag deploy at the intensity of his celebration. It’s a celebration that is quickly forgotten as he struggles with grip on the opening lap and drops back into the pack at the start of the race. He barely remembers anything else, only Zarco’s bike barely brushing the top of his helmet as it careered across the track and one of his mechanics pushing him back into his chair when the red flag is thrown out. Accidents are a part of his life, he’s known that for a long time - but this one leaves him shaken. He manages to scrape another handful of points, but he’s more thankful to come out of the encounter unscathed. He lays awake half of the night after the race, the paddock finally falling silent and he replays the moment again and again in his mind, wondering if Fabio even cared. His phone sits by the side of him, and although it’s full of messages of concern from his friends, family, and other riders, Fabio is not among them.   
  
Things do not improve when Maverick’s brakes fail the following week during the race. He squeezes the lever on the approach to turn one and nothing happens. Within a split second, he throws himself off his Yamaha, feeling the airbag deploy before he hits the asphalt skidding across the gravelled run-off area. His Yamaha continues, hitting the air fence with frightening intensity before it erupts into flames. He’s immediately on his feet, cursing loudly at the top of his lungs at the sight of his beloved bike alight, his leathers torn and tattered from the fall. He is brought back to the paddock and he’s immediately pulled into the Yamaha motorhome to be briefed and checked over, however, aside from a few bruises, he’s fine. He watches the rest of the race curled up on the couch in his motorhome, the bruises from his fall still aching long after Miguel has lifted the trophy. He’s not sure how long he stays on the couch after the race ends, the screen flickering to black as the light begins to fade through the tinted windows of his motorhome, but his racing thoughts are interrupted by a faint knock.   
  
Pulling himself to his feet, he shuffles over to the door, expecting to see one of his mechanics or Jack inviting himself over for a Playstation tournament.   
  
“Fabio?” He whispers, blinking once as though Fabio will disappear before his eyes. The younger man looks almost soft, dressed in a dark grey hoodie, the hood covering his bleached hair, his dark eyes are filled with worry. “What are you doing here?”   
  
“I had to see you,” Fabio murmurs, pressing past Maverick. The Spaniard can only watch as Fabio stands in the lounge, his hood falling from his head, the bleach blonde illuminated by the dim lights. “I wanted to see you after the race and check you were okay-”   
  
“I’m fine,” Maverick whispers softly, rubbing his bruised shoulder. “Just a few scrapes and bruises,”   
  
Fabio’s hand moves to ghost against the bruises, igniting every nerve ending in Maverick’s body at the touch. “I was scared for you, I watched it back on the screens in the garage and I thought you had hurt yourself,”   
  
“I’m okay, I’m here,” Maverick begins, only to pause as Fabio’s hand moves to press against his chest, presumably to feel his heartbeat, his hazel eyes falling shut. “Fabio-”   
  
“Please,” Fabio whispers, his fingers curling into the front of Maverick’s shirt, feeling the Spaniard’s heart thump against his palm. “ _Please_ ,” He says again, leaning in to close the gap between them. His lips feel like they always did, and Maverick can feel the flutter in his lower chest at the warmth of them pressed against his own, Fabio’s fingers still fisted into his t-shirt. He allows himself to drink in the sensation of Fabio against him, the lips warm, his muscular body cushioned by the soft hoodie before he jolts back into reality. Fabio and he aren’t together anymore, they can’t do this, they cannot fall back into their old habits and their weaknesses.   
  
“Fabio, I’m sorry-” He pulls away, trying not to stare at Fabio’s slickened lips, his eyes darker than usual. “I’m sorry we can’t,”   
  
Fabio closes his eyes and nods once as though in defeat. “I thought so,” He catches his lip between his teeth as though to savour the taste of Maverick. “I’m sorry,” He whispers, his fingers slowly uncurling from Maverick’s t-shirt and before Maverick can reply, the door closes softly with a small swish. Maverick stands in the middle of the motorhome for a few moments, the taste of Fabio still on his lips, his phantom touch still haunting the Spaniard, and that hurts more than the bruises.   
  


* * *

  
He’s thankful for the two-week break to go back to Andorra, but the lack of racing brings his thoughts back to Fabio and back to the kiss in his motorhome. He tries to push it out of his mind with training and with motocross and it works only when he’s exhausted, collapsing into his bed at the end of the day. He does not think about how big the bed feels without Fabio by his side, and how his dreams are filled with dark blonde hair, dark hazel eyes, and a wide tooth-gapped smile that is reserved only for him. It works to an extent when they return to Misano and he claims pole position once more. Fabio joins him in parc ferme, and their eyes meet for the first time since that night. Fabio gives him a small smile before he goes over to envelope Franco in a warm hug. To anyone else, it looks like two teammates congratulating each other, but Maverick knows better. It’s a message to him. He tries to shake the thoughts away and focus on the race. The start is again a poor one and he falls back, Fabio zipping past him around the seventh lap. Maverick grits his teeth and pushes harder, only to watch Fabio crash out in front of him at turn four and with it, the championship lead. The thought of Fabio sitting in the gravel by the side of the track stays on his mind throughout the race. He ends up in sixth, taking home ten precious championship points but his mind soon flickers to Fabio. Maverick resists the urge to text his ex-lover, but he decides against it, settling for throwing his phone across the room instead.   
  
Maverick finally wins the following race and feels like the nightmare is finally over. He stands in parc ferme and allows himself to bask in the victory. It’s different to celebrate with no fans in the grandstands and he finds himself missing the roar of them as he pulls into parc ferme, opposite the beaming smiles of his team. Maverick launches himself at them, their laughs and shouts muffled by his helmet, but at that moment, he doesn’t care. He feels on top of the world. After accepting the congratulations from Joan and Pol, he finds himself on the top step, the Spanish national anthem ringing out in his ears over the cheers of his team and the smile once again stretches across his face. _This is why you did it_ , he tells himself. _This is why you made those sacrifices._ _  
_ _  
_ It isn’t until later that he finds out about Fabio’s penalty and his demotion from third place. He watches the video from the news-site on Twitter of Fabio and Tom up in race control, the Frenchmen unable to contain their anger and his heart wrenches at the sight of Fabio’s disappointed face. His fingers find his phone and without realising, he opens up a new text message, trying not to glance at the previous ones full of emojis and love yous.   
  
_I am sorry to hear about your demotion, you deserved better. Hope you’re alright x_ he taps out.   
  
But he deletes the text a few minutes later. He’s sure that he’s the last person that Fabio wants to hear from. The trophy on the table in front of him shines silently, and he looks away guiltily.  
  


* * *

  
Fabio fights back in Spain, spurred on by his time penalty the week before and he collects his third win of the season, and with it, the championship lead. Maverick can only watch on from the garage after the debrief as Fabio celebrates with his team, throwing himself at Tom. The older man rubs his hand against Fabio’s leathers and Maverick has to wrench his gaze away once more. He knows that he ended things between them to further not just his career but that of his ex-lover too, but it still leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He writes another message to Fabio later that evening:   
  
_Congratulations on the win. Very proud of you x_   
  
However, before he can erase it, he hits send by mistake and watches with trepidation, unable to do anything. He hopes that Fabio is busy celebrating and that he will simply ignore the message, but he receives a reply a few minutes later.   
  
_Thank you. X_ _  
_ _  
_ The kiss at the end of Fabio’s message makes Maverick’s heart flutter and he sighs heavily, pushing his hand over his eyes, angry at himself for being unable to let Fabio go.   
  
France is no better for him - he scrapes into tenth position, just one place behind Fabio who holds onto the championship lead by his fingertips, and although he merely misses out on a podium the following week in Aragon, Fabio limps out of the points with a tyre pressure problem. The championship lead is again vanquished and Maverick finds himself sitting alone in his motorhome, the paddock falling silent after Suzuki’s celebrations, and wonders if he made the right decision. The following week brings more problems and more pressure, and Maverick decides that he loathes Aragon and he would be happy if they never went there ever again. It’s a fairly nondescript weekend with him and Fabio scoring points, but it’s not the podiums that their rivals are collecting. He wants to reach out to Fabio again, but he knows it’s better not to - the last message seems to taunt him from the screen of his phone.   
  
Maverick’s championship hopes end the next week in Valencia with the sixth additional engine that he is forced to take ensuring that he starts from the pitlane. He limps home in thirteenth place, finishing a place ahead of Fabio who is similarly holding onto the championship by the thinnest of threads. He watches his young ex-lover fall apart in his pit box, his helmeted head falling into his hands, his anguish on camera for all to see. Maverick feels the tears come later on when he’s all alone in his motorhome. He’s always been on the back foot this season, and he’s had a few unfortunate events, but he truly believed that this could be the year that he had wished for since he was a young boy. Maverick stares down at his phone, the screen is blank and devoid of notifications, and he knows that his tears are not just for the loss of his championship, but for the fact that he knows he’s given Fabio up for nothing.  
  


* * *

  
Fabio’s thin championship hopes are finally destroyed the following week, again in Valencia when he finds himself in the gravel early on in the race. Maverick tries to keep his head down and dips deep, only to scrape P10 and grab another handful of points. He wants nothing more than to go to Fabio’s motorhome later that evening but he resists the urge to go over, he’s certain that Fabio doesn’t want to see him. But the thought won’t leave his head, even as he returns back to Andorra the next morning, it seems to consume him. He tries to fill his day with exercise and other menial tasks, but the thought of Fabio continues to haunt him. It’s midnight on Tuesday morning when he finally breaks and slips on a nondescript hoodie, leaving his apartment to walk the short distance to Fabio’s apartment.   
  
Maverick isn’t sure if he will be welcome - the spare key that Fabio had given him over a year ago burns in his hand as he unlocks the door to Fabio’s darkened apartment. It’s been a while since he’s been here, almost six months - and the Frenchman is certain to be asleep. But as he pushes open the door, he hears faint music coming from the lounge area. Kicking off his shoes, he pads past the mess that Fabio has left in the doorway, there’s little point in unpacking with the finale in less than a week. Maverick glances around the lounge, the entire room is in darkness but he notices that it’s barely changed from the last time he was there, the memories of Fabio’s tear-filled face filling his mind again. The French doors that lead to the balcony are wide open, the thin gauzy curtains billowing in the faint breeze, and Maverick spots a darkened figure sitting on the railing, looking out over the lights of Andorra. He makes his way over to the double doors, taking in the sight of his ex-lover, curled up on the wall in one of his garish patterned hoodies, his feet hanging over the edge.   
  
“Maverick-” Fabio’s voice pipes up and he sounds young and tired. “What are you doing here?”   
  
Maverick stiffens as Fabio turns slightly, his dark eyes fixing on the Spaniard. “I’m sorry, I had to see you- I’m sorry for breaking in like this, I just wanted to know if you were alright,”   
  
“I’m fine,” Fabio says quietly, turning back towards the landscape.   
  
“Fabio-”   
  
“I don’t want your pity, Maverick,” Fabio murmurs thickly. “If that’s what you came for, you might as well leave,”   
  
Maverick bites down on his lip, the silence swirling between the two men before he moves forward, his hand brushing against Fabio’s shoulder to spin the Frenchman towards him. “It’s not just what I came for,” He whispers, staring into wide hazel eyes. 

  
“Why did you come?” Fabio replies, his tone low. “Why are you here?”   
  
“I’m sorry, I made a mistake. I fucked up. I thought that our relationship would just distract us and ruin our careers, and I didn’t want that to happen...I couldn’t let that happen, not to you,”   
  
“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter in the end, does it?” Fabio scoffs, tearing his eyes away from Maverick.   
  
“Fabio-”   
  
“You hurt me, Maverick. I love you and you just threw me away...I get it - you were just looking out for us both, but it still hurts. I needed your support more than ever this season and I just didn’t have it-”   
  
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Maverick whispers. “I was wrong, and I am sorry for hurting you. I was worried that I would distract you and I didn’t want you to feel the added pressure of trying to make me happy, I’m so sorry,”   
  
Fabio glances over at him, his hazel eyes again glassy with tears, his hand reaching out to catch Maverick’s. “I know you are,”   
  
Maverick lets out a breathily exhale, he can feel his heart slamming against his ribcage at Fabio’s touch. “Fabio, I-”   
  
“I’m not sorry for kissing you in Austria. I was so scared that I’d lost you and god, I wanted to find you after that first round but I couldn’t bring himself to do it-”   
  
“I wanted to do the same in Aragon, but I didn’t want you to think that I was leading you on,” Fabio’s thumb rubs slowly over Maverick’s fingers.   
  
“I would never think that,” Fabio’s tone is soft.   
  
“You should, I hurt you-” Maverick murmurs out, his eyes sliding shut.   
  
“And I forgive you. Remember what you said all those months ago? You promised me that we would find our way back to one another, and I think it’s time that you upheld that promise. Stop running away from me,”   
  
Maverick nods slowly. “I know,”   
  
He feels Fabio’s other hand slowly cup at his cheek, the callouses rough against his cheek, his heart wrenching at the contact. “Open your eyes for me, cheri,” Fabio whispers.   
  
Maverick wrenches his eyes open to find Fabio staring back at him, a soft smile painting the edges of his lips. It’s not the smile he puts on for the cameras, this smile is reserved for Maverick only. They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, Fabio’s fingers still tracing over Maverick’s cheeks before their lips meet again. This kiss is different, it’s full of emotion and pain, but Maverick can feel the relief that lurks beneath, Fabio’s body melting against his own as the kiss deepens. The only sound that fills the air is that of their own hurried breathing, the rustle of Maverick’s jacket as Fabio’s tongue swipes across Maverick’s lips and the Spaniard opens his mouth, allowing the Frenchman’s warm tongue to slip inside.   
  
“I love you,” Maverick whispers against his mouth and he can feel Fabio’s smile against his lips.   
  
“And I love you,” Fabio whispers back, as they finally pull apart, their foreheads resting against each other as they stare into each other’s eyes, hazel locked on dark brown. “Stay with me?”   
  
Maverick nods against his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere,”   
  
Fabio’s hand curls around his own as he pulls himself up from the balcony wall. “God, because we have some catching up to do,”   
  
Maverick can’t keep the smile off his lips as Fabio tugs him inside towards his bedroom. He spares one more glance over the landscape of Andorra, the lights seeming to twinkle ever so slightly and then he looks over at Fabio, all wide eyes and swollen lips, and he realises that the championship may be lost for both of them, but he knows that he’s rediscovered something much more special.   
  



End file.
